


Enathe

by nyxxbx



Series: Bel'annar'is [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, POV Lavellan (Dragon Age), POV Solas (Dragon Age), Pre-Relationship, Questioning, Self-Doubt, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxxbx/pseuds/nyxxbx
Summary: The title of the Herald of Andraste has created a cloud of doubt in Lavellan's mind. Solas endeavours to help her.
Relationships: Dalish/Lavellan, Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Bel'annar'is [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733095
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Enathe

The familiar aura of the Fade surrounded him once more and he awakened with a relieved sigh, welcoming the feeling of ease that enveloped him. He didn't have to pretend here, didn't need to experience that paranoid sensation of someone staring at him from the shadows. He could be who he wanted to be, who he was underneath the apostate _Fade-Walker_ facade. It wasn't a facade though, not fully. He was an apostate and he did enjoy his journeys through the Fade. 

The truth was never just that simple, though. 

Solas had already memorised the entirety of Haven despite not having been there long. He had seen The Warden and her companions engage in battle with the cultists that used to reside in the idyllic landscape, had dared to step into the dreams of those that surrounded him, their minds plagued with nightmares and fantasies of a better world, a world without the broken sky. He understood their fear, it's what war bred, after all. 

He had hoped that with the Inquisition finally becoming a real, living and breathing organisation, ready to fight and protect, their distraught thoughts would've been soothed. Unfortunately, fear would not be so easily defeated. 

The Fade Walker hadn't stayed long, wandering, amidst their visions. His mind was set on the cottage near the staircase, where the Herald of Andraste should have been sleeping, resting from the past few, torturous days. The Breach hadn't been sealed, not even remotely, Solas could feel its energy still pulsing, ready to strike. But, she had stopped it from expanding, a seemingly impossible feat on its own, or so the people of Haven thought. 

Only, Fen'rei hadn't been sleeping. She had closed herself off from the world that so boldly claimed her to be holy, from the glistening hope in their eyes. For the past two days, she had holed herself up in the wooden cottage, staring blankly at the wall, ears perking up at the mere mention of the title, the Conclave, the catastrophe surrounding her. She knew she had Josephine, Leliana and Cullen, her advisors--because she needed those now-- concerned and she was aware Seeker Cassandra was very irked with her behaviour. 

She couldn't help herself, though. This entire shift from being the clan's outcast to the world's only saving grace was overwhelming, it tore through her, the uncertainty, the fear of failure, of those people outside, those petrified beings who longed for a leader, guidance, hope, a light that wasn't green and wasn't tearing the sky apart. What about the light that was destroying her being? Her sanity? 

She never asked for this. 

The insomnia disappeared on the third day, whether it was from exhaustion or something else, Fen'rei was not certain. She accepted the rest gratefully, her mind immediately greeting her with a bitter memory. 

Solas had noticed the burning, bright memory from within the Fade the moment it appeared. His silver eyes shifted to the cottage he had been wishing to visit, his lips quirking upwards in a small smile. It would seem sleep has overtaken her at last, he thought. It was his doing, of course, by the Seeker's request, after he had expressed his concerns about the Herald's strange behaviour. Cassandra was aware of it as well, and immediately agreed. 

And now, once again, his curiosity guided him to the troubled mind of the Herald. 

She sat against the _tree_ once again, _Mythal's_ carving right above the halo of her pale hair. She was alone, silent, seemingly tranquil and it was somewhat mesmerising the way she blended into the mossy leaves and iron bark of the forest, the way she seemed at ease in these unpredictable, unwavering woods just as he was peaceful in the Fade. This was her Fade, her serenity, Solas realised. 

Why was it that he felt this indescribable urge to stay in her dreams, to see what transpired in them, to witness her reactions? What was it about her being that continued to fuel his curiosity so? She was but a mere Dalish, an elf taught and guided to honour those who once took advantage of them, who offered nothing but a cruel prison, without free will, without dreams. 

She was sharpening one of her arrows, her bow discarded onto the ground, the soil slipping into the callouses of her boots. Solas' gaze moved to her face, those sharp features usually traced with the vallaslin of her people, and yet.. this time, there was something amiss. The evening air swirled around her, the wind blowing her light, unkempt locks from her face and that's when he noticed the missing vallaslin. 

Why would this memory be so intense.. so meaningful.. Solas wondered, suddenly focusing on the narrow slope of her nose, the carefree quirk of her lips that he had never seen in the real world, not from anyone he had encountered as of late. 

A snap of the twig broke that artwork of serenity on her features and Solas could feel irritation build in his throat. He cleared it, silently, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as to the sudden emotion. 

Fen'rei lifted her golden eyes to look around, eyes narrowing once she spotted the form of another elf approaching, the slits softening once she recognised her brother. 

_"On dhea'lam, isa'ma'lin._ " The slip of Elvhen from her tongue enveloped the surrounding forest. 

Her brother, Dirth'ghilanain, furrowed his light brows as he scratched at the carvings on his face. He had gotten his vallaslin long before her and still believed that day to be one of the most joyous parts of his young life. It was Fen'rei's turn tommorow and she still hadn't told him which of the Creators she would choose to engrave into her features. 

"Fen, _asa'ma'lin_.. the Clan hasn't seen you since early dawn. The ceremony isn't far away, midnight will be upon us soon." He said, soft voice enveloping her ears and Fen'rei pursed her lips at the thought of it, continuing to sharpen her arrows, one by one, stroke by stroke. 

Solas watched the interaction with upmost intrigue, wondering why the young Herald seemed so annoyed at the thought of getting her _vallaslin_. 

Dirth'ghilanain sighed. "May I?" He gestured toward the spot on the ground. Fen'rei nodded, her silence intimidating. 

"We were concerned.. the Keeper thought something had happened to you-" Fen'rei broke his sentence with a cynical scoff.

"Please, _isa'ma'lin_ , do not lie to me. I know they are itching to find out which Creator will I choose, so that they can proceed with their mocking. The only good thing about tommorow is that I will not have to listen to their insults." Her sharpening fastened, mind agitated. 

"I was concerned too, Fen. Isolating yourself from the Clan won't help you get in their good graces. They find it childlish." Her brother tried, hand reaching out to stroke her hair. 

"Let them." Fen'rei said, her tone cold, sharp, resembling the winds of winter that howled in pain. Solas did not have to see her brother to know that he flinched. 

"Would you, at the very least, tell me?" He pleaded, eyes focusing on his younger asa'ma'lin, jaw tightening in emotion. 

Fen'rei remained silent, her teeth nipping at the inside of her cheek, heart torn at the thought of allowing her defenses to slip, if even for her brother. He wasn't at fault, she knew that, but the pent up bitterness on her tongue, the anger at the unfairness of her Clan, who were supposed to be like her family, were clouding her heart, steeling it, making it turn into an icy mush of unforgiven emotions. Eyes narrowed, focusing on the overly-sharpened arrow in her palm, she clenched her teeth and let out a slow breath. 

Dirth'ghilanain took in her silence as a sign of rejection and with a deep, despairing breath, stood up. He opened his mouth, hazel eyes filled with worry, desperation and hurt roaming her figure, before he shook his head, and disappeared off into the direction of the Clan's campsite. 

Solas watched as Fen'rei's jaw tightened, hands grasping the blade so tightly- her fingers began to bleed and in a flash he stood up from his secluded spot on the ground to stop her, soothe the anger rising in her throat, the choked sob that she was restraining from within herself. Fen'rei apparently had the same thought as she swiftly grabbed the discarded longbow on the ground, loaded the overly-sharpened arrow and let the string go as the deadly piece of steel embedded itself into the tree from across her. Her lips had let out a yell, throat constricting and itching at the enraged dryness. 

Her golden eyes held crystals, diamonds, once again, and those orbs, then unmarked by the emerald speckles of The Mark, locked with those of Solas', suddenly both of them in sight, his silver jewels embellished with bronze meeting hers.

He watched as her lush lips let out a gasp, and then he was back in the Fade, the spell broken.

She had awakened with a dry throat, eyes still half-lidded as her body rattled with the aftershocks of her dream- no, not a dream, a memory. But if it was a memory, why did she lock eyes with the elven apostate, Solas, the man who had been keeping up walls around everyone, as much as she has. 

Her palms found her exhausted eyes, form slumping down onto her bed as she looked outside the window, finding the pale moon staring straight at her. Her mind was flailing, resisting the sleep she was trying to call to her and she realised, this was as much rest as she was going to get. Letting out a sigh, she found her boots and tied them, standing up to grab the leather coat the blacksmith had presented her with upon her arrival to Haven as the Herald. 

Everything in her felt repulsed everytime she heard the blasted title. She had expressed her repulsion to her advisors, to everyone she had met so far, exclaiming, pleading to let them know she was far from holy. She had been taught that her entire life. No one listened.

The refreshing, crisp air of the mountains, snow, the frozen lake so close to them, the pine trees, burnt wood and embers of the campfires taken out only hours ago swirled around her, and for a moment, in that blissful silence beneath the stars and the frozen Breach in the dark abyss above her, she felt peace. 

Not quite similar as the woods she wandered back with her Clan, but it would have to do. 

Her feet carried her through Haven, the paths she had only seen a few times despite being here a lot longer. She slipped behind a cottage, nimble feet hitting the snow in utter silence as she explored the small patch of trees close to the Chantry. It reminded her of home, _vhenas_ , the circle of trees, life, leaves, nature around her. She pulled at the roots of _felandaris_ planted behind the cottage, mind momentarily occupied with who decided to plant such an herb here. She had only seen elfroot around and maybe an outgrowth of spindleweed close to the lake.

A voice broke her serenity once again and she froze. 

"The Herald of Andraste.." her body went rigid, yet she did not know whether it was because of the title or because of the way said words rolled like samite off of his tongue. Solas. 

Fen'rei turned towards the apostate, her eyes widened, her stance wary as she took in his form in the pale moonlight, the jawbone wrapped around his broad shoulders glinting like an artifact. She was entranced for a moment, like a halla caught in the range of the hunter's predatory gaze. 

And then annoyance settled in.

"I suppose you want an audience, with the way you're declaring my whereabouts." She snapped, hands moving to wrap around herself, suddenly defensive.

Solas watched, a small hidden smile gracing his lips at the remark she had shed so quickly, swiftly. She was the embodiment of grace and she wasn't even aware of it. 

"Given your title and the things you've accomplished, many people would like an audience with you. And yet.. you do not wish to encourage it. How do you think you're going to lead them if you're hiding away in that cabin?" 

His voice was harsh, cutting and she realised the lilt of his tongue was familiar, and yet ancient. The words he spoke so wisely tore through another wound within her and she knew he was right. Tightening her jaw, she took a seat on the conveniently placed wooden bench behind the cottage, staring ahead at the trees and plucked dragonthorn, soles of her boots in the snow. She nodded her head towards the bench, inviting him to sit next to her. He accepted. 

"I'm guessing the cottage behind us is where you begin to walk through The Fade?" She questioned, words teasing at the former conversation they had about demons and spirits, the banter shut quickly when she saw Cassandra calling for her from the Haven's chantry. 

"Yes, though that's not quite an answer to my question." Solas said, eyebrow raising in amusement. 

"Can you walk through the dreams of others, without disturbing them?" She played with the edge of her coat, eyes not focusing on his gaze.

He tilted his head, intrigued by the game of evasion she was playing. "Hypothetically, perhaps." 

She let out a soft laugh, a sound that seemed to surprise them both, his ears longing to hear it again. "It was a simple yes or no question."

"Nothing about it is simple." 

Another laugh. She felt her heart flutter, panic enveloping her hands as they stammered against the coat. His throat tightened, panic subduing his vocal chords.

"That's not really quite an answer, either."

Silence spread around them, and for a moment it was comfortable until Solas realised the heavy weight stuck on her shoulders. He could sense she was mulling the words and phrases in her mind, uncertain on how to begin. 

"Am I.." she began, doubt flooding those golden eyes, "am I worthy of the trust they put in me? I am no one, I was barely accepted by my clan, who decided that I should guide these people that want a protector, someone capable. I am not capable of that, I couldn't even.." she let out a shaky breath, teeth enveloping her lower lip.

Solas furrowed his brows, curious of her history with her clan. That would have to be the subject of another conversation some other time, he concluded. He was surprised to hear the insecurity in her voice with the way she displayed confidence when she had sealed the rifts and decided upon the course of action for the soldiers. This fear of being a failure, unworthy was all too familiar for him and he felt deep empathy clutch at the thorns of his heart. 

"Herald-" he began, only to be cut off.

"Please.. _dian_.. don't call me that. I just can't get used to it. Call me Fen'rei or.. I don't know. Just not that."

Another breath left him as he heard the beginnings of her name. He shook his head, eyes pleading to see hers. She lifted her uncertain gaze. 

_"Ir abelas_ , Herald- _Fen'rei_." It felt odd, how lightly it rolled off his tongue. "The people put their trust in you because they see something in you. You underestimate them. They are not mindless cattle flocking to whoever is closest. They believe in you. We believe in you. You may fail, that is the truth, but you won't do it alone. The others are here to guide you." He said, his voice strong, a different type of anchor holding her from slipping away into her insecurities. 

"Will you be there for me, as well?" She asked, her voice so fragile, her eyes endless pools of gold that used to glisten in the thriving days of Arlathan, and he felt the breath leave his throat, again, lips opening to form an answer. 

He cleared his throat, a facade of politeness shielding the surprise that had been there mere moments ago. Solas let a small smile grace his lips, nodding to the Dalish next to him. 

" _Ma nuvenin_ , Lavellan."

The seriousness of his gaze, his words, his posture reignited the fire of confidence within her and in that moment, she felt as if she could certainly try to do as he advised. And that was enough, for now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Elvhen taken from Fenxshiral's Project Elvhen!
> 
> On dhea'lam - good evening  
> Isa'ma'lin - brother  
> Asa'ma'lin - sister  
> Dian - stop  
> Ma nuvenin - as you say


End file.
